Wrackspurts and the Sporadic Kiss
by snapemartyr
Summary: Ron seems to find himself in a spot of trouble when he insults Harry, as Luna Lovegood somehow floats into his personal sphere, and then his day turns- well, much worse, some might say . . . a story to give you a bit of a pep. Please comment. I hope you enjoy it. {Six Year, and a bit AU, but- you could guess that, I think}
1. Wrackspurts and the Sporadic Kiss

_**Wrackspurts and the Sporadic Kis**__**s (Prologue, Part 1) ~**_

_**A/N: This takes place during 6**__**th**__** year- well, obviously, once you start to read it, duh SM (that's me, by the way). Anyhow, Ron Weasely and Luna Lovegood have a bit of a run in during a sporadic moment. He's having a bit of a bad day due to an insult he inadvertently threw at Harry during Quidditch Trials, and his day only gets worse- poor soul. This is a bit AU, but I hope you like it anyway.**_

_**{Disclaimer: I of course own none of this- it all belongs to JK Rowling}**_

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"Really Ron, I don't think it was very kind of you to tell Harry that his Quidditch trials weren't important- "

"I never said they weren't important!" Ron spluttered, staring at Luna as if what she had said was completely out of the normal realm of all the possible outcomes that anyone could have thought of.

"Well, if you say so," she said serenely, while she walked along the edge of the corridor, her arm reaching towards the stone the knob of small snake-carved stone that seemed to rear up at them with a that dashing tongue that apparently wanted to come alive- and flick at them insidiously, swiftly raising up before them while their footsteps paddled against the stone staircase in their descent.

"Don't know why everyone thinks that I'm as cold as the Snape bloke whom we're unfortunately about to see . . . " he muttered underneath his breath, as an aside to the talk- they were close to the corridor's end, and Ron almost stumbled at the door to the dungeon, which had just remarkably flown open, so he was forced to back into the wall behind Luna, while Snape's sibilant voice wafted towards them, in a deathly-quiet tone.

"Inside." The small group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors piled in, even as Ron and Luna remained where they were sadly standing, as Ron began measuring the amount of time that it would take him . . . to simply walk towards the very end of the hall.

"Ron!" Luna quickly nudged him in the ribs while he started towards this destination, so he was forced to follow her back into the potions classroom, grumbling the entire way. When they were finally inside a room that had been for a vast amount of time inundated by the aromatic displays of slimy vehicles for disastrous attempts made by many gregarious students of Severus Snape over the years, that had used the smelly nuisances for their own precarious and unethical endeavors, the black-black potions master stood at the front of their line of vision – Ron maneuvered behind Luna carefully, and crept towards a black cauldron, turning his walk into an intentional labyrinth in order so that he could avoid Harry and Hermione. Raising an eyebrow at the two of them, he promptly sat beside Luna, in a corner at the back of the room situated on the opposite side. While she fell into the seat beside him easily, Snape called out, in his sneering voice,

"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasely, for distracting those within this classroom from maintaining focus with your original and abominable attempts to find a proper seat." Ron flushed a bright red, inasmuch as it caused his very ears to turn another shade almost entirely. It was odd to see the red-head become a plump, his mess of carrot hair that looked odd gracing the top of the merry spectacle. He heard Harry give a snort from his seat that he did not bother trying to hide, and, when he glanced at Hermione, she didn't even bother to look over at him. Her eyes were carefully trained upon the book that was in front of her. 'Well, that was fine,' he thought, glancing away from them quickly, and instead opting to glare at the top of his desk. If that was how they were going to be . . . well then, he could play that game just as prolifically. He felt a nudge in the side of his ribs.

"Owww!" Several people turned. Ron simply wanted to borrow his head- or, better yet, vanish all of them with a swift flick of his wand. Yeah . . . that would be the most fluent way to rid himself of these annoying termites . . . what right did they have to pretend as though he were nothing to them except his precocious animal that had turned its wee little nose up at all of them- as if they thought that he was a possum . . . they were simply, merely termites-

"Ron!" Luna nudged him in the ribs again, softly, making him glance up at her, the tuft of his orange hair sticking up as he swiveled around in his seat-

"You might lose more points," she whispered to him serenely. He sighed rather tragically at Luna's directive, but he wisely did not respond. At the front of the room, the flurry of black semblances caught the eyes of the entire class while he stalked back and forth before the rows of seats.

"You are now to open your books to page three hundred and forty-nine, and to read the instructions thereupon. The instructions for the potion- " he gave his wand a rapid flick to his side, causing everyone to move their eyes carefully towards the blackboard, upon which glittering words written in a familiar spidery scrawl were now working their way effectively across- "are on the board, as you can plainly- see," Snape told them in a cold, flat tone that made Ron think of a deadly venomous something that he didn't want to describe.

"Urgh," he spat quietly.

"What was that, Ron?" Luna asked in a voice that sounded of pure, sweet innocence.

"I didn't say anything- nothing at all," he muttered.

"Oh, okay," she said, quite happily, he thought- too happily. The cauldron before them flared to life all of a sudden, making Ron step back into Luna accidentally. She caught him by the shoulders, and, mustering as much dignity as he could, he straightened himself, shooting yet another look of pure repulse down at the newt's eyes and scorpion tails that were swimming about in a basin of murky black water that had magically appeared in front of them.

"You seem to be quite temperamental today," Luna observed serenely, as she turned her large, blue, protuberant eyes him. Ron now endeavored to begin cutting up the scorpion tails into four square blocks as were dictated according to Snape's instructions.

"Yeah, well . . . I haven't got much reason to be in a good mood, have I?" he grumbled, as she studied the flame to be certain that it was the precise spectrum of pink and white.

"After all, if you are worried about anything, then I would assume that you could just go and apologize to Harry," she said again in that serene tone, removing her eyes from the colorfully warm creation in favor of staring at Ron as though he were part of their potions experiment, almost as if she were trying to break him down like the tails he was slicing. He glanced down at the murky puddle, embarrassedly.

"It really wouldn't be that difficult. After all, Harry is a better player than you, and he's more important to the team," she said sagely, causing him to accidentally cut his finger in a bout of instant anger.

"Weasely." To his further aggravation, Snape had chosen that exact moment to look over their shoulder in order to observe their progress, so he turned to face him, with slight apprehension. "What do you call these?" he asked him, in a voice dripping with apparent disgust. A few of the other Ravenclaws, and, he surmised, even some of the Gryffindors chuckled when he raised a few of his admittedly hacked up tails high for their benefit. "A child could have done better than this attempt at mud-pie making. Tell me, Weasely. Are you a muggle at the playground?" Ron's ears reddened with anger. He clenched and unclenched his fists unconsciously, as he said,

"No, sir."

"Very good," Snape said softly. He placed the tails back into Ron's bowl before vanishing all the work he had finished. Then he snapped his fingers over Luna's head. "See if you can do a better job than him Miss. Lovegood," he sneered, as he whipped away from them and walked toward Harry and Hermione's cauldron. Harry, he noticed, was looking at him, and something crossed his eyes that Ron feigned the inability to see, while he went back to his work. He couldn't help himself from peeking at his impediment of his two friends however as they continued their progress, but, apparently, Snape could find nothing to criticize, and a moment later he walked toward the next set of students, looking, Ron thought, a bit displeased.

"Hurry, Ron," Luna whispered from beside him, "grab some more scorpion tails. We might still be able to finish this before the bell rings," she said quickly. Begrudgingly, he went to the cupboard to grab some more, thinking to himself that working with Luna did not have any more merits than when he attempted to brew potions with Harry. A bit pleased by the notion, he made a fervent grab for the pile of them- but as fate would have it, he had forgotten that they were not magically packaged like the other ingredients. As they all came tumbling forward and scattered themselves about the floor at his feet, Snape's voice wafted out to him distinctly,

"And that'll be another ten points from Gryffindor, Weasely . . . "

As Ron meandered from class to class throughout the day, his friends steadily ignored him as Luna, beaming radiantly with her radish earrings swinging about gaily, talked to all of them as though she was blissfully unaware that anything was slightly out of ordinary. Every passing moment was one in which she spoke of nothing save for nargles, and a new breed of venomous Wrackspurts that she had read about in her father's magazine. After she had taken this conversation to a certain measure, Ron no longer thought he knew what the argument was actually about, and he chanced a quizzical glance at Harry and Hermione, who were sitting about midway down the Gryffindor table, speaking in lowered voices. He couldn't help but to notice that Hermione was looking up at him and Luna every so often, appearing to be faintly amused by his companion's perpetual chatter, or rather the nature of her individually unique monologue that she was with herself having. He did not think that it was possible for anyone to be quite as happily engaged as she was at this particular moment.

Eventually when she spiraled away on what she seemed to feel was an enthralling tangent, Ron locked his eyes with Hermione, and although the happening was by total and complete chance probably, they were suddenly both grinning. Then, in what he deemed to be a beautiful sporadic moment, she burst out laughing. As she did this, Harry looked up, glancing between the two of them, while Luna simply blinked a couple of times, as if she wasn't exactly sure where she had become fashioned in the midst of her own babbling, all of which caused Ron to burst out in an unfettered laughter as well.

"I don't really think you should laugh at venomous Wrackspurt problems, Ronald," Luna said in a tone that was as serious as that used to comment on someone's recent death. "It's really quite horrible really. The Quibbler says that there were three outbreaks of the venom infusion only last week, and- " Ron was now positively chocking. Hermione was laughing freely still, and- even Harry now looked bemused. Feeling strangely relieved in a way that he couldn't yet fully determine, Ron thought that he could kiss Luna. During an extremely sporadic moment, one which he wouldn't be able to understand or break down into simple language for the rest of his days upon the Earth he lived in, he bent downward and kissed her cheek rather quickly. She placed a hand up to it softly and looked at him with a face filled with surprise.

"Why, Ron," she exclaimed, in a mellow tone. Ron turned a deep red up to the very tips of his hair follicles just as a sneeringly, horribly familiar voice said behind him,

"What uh . . . shall we say- _odd_ taste that you have, Weazelby." Ron spun about quickly, ignoring the clatter of his knife and fork as they fell upon the floor, next to his feet. "I didn't realize that you went for the loony type, but then I suppose that suits you much better than any other prospect, since, after all, insanity runs pretty strong in your family line, doesn't it?" Malfoy asked him with distaste and blatant scorn, causing a low rumbling laughter to rise up from his two sides, rebounding off the bumbling, crass forms of Crabbe and Goyle. The two thugs were so closely pressed into Malfoy's side that the drool from Goyle's tongue poking between his lips like a protruding flowerbed nearly dripped onto the pale boy's robes. Ron made a face of disgust. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"What? You have a problem with the fact that I tell the truth, even if you don't have the guts to face it?" Ron shook his head.

"No. I just thought that you might want to check your robes for any lingering stains that might be on it, leftover from your rubbish bin, ya know?"

"Wha- " Draco Malfoy looked down at his robe front. Repulsion etched its way across his face quite rapidly, as he instantaneously spun around and grabbed Crabbe by his collar and spat, "You slobbered on me?" His face was beat red. While the three of them left the Gryffindor table in a one-ended pursuit of two larger, brutish, barreling shadows, nearly half of the table applauded Malfoy's efforts as he tried to strange Crabbe from the back, and a uniform guffawing arose, trailing them all the way back to the Slytherin side of the room. Harry wiped his sleeve across his eyes.

"Good one, mate," he threw down towards Ron. Ron's face flushed with a genuine smile for a moment. Luna looked at him and beamed brightly.

"That's nice," she said. "I'm glad to see that you two are back to getting along." She slid further down the table towards Hermione, taking advantage of the seat beside her that had grown vacant. She started talking to her about Blithering Humdingers. Ron glanced at Harry quizzically. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded at him, and then watched as his friend stood up, whispering something into Hermione's ear. Immediately she stood, allowing Luna to scoot down into her seat while she took Harry's vacant one. Harry sat down beside him. Ron could feel his eyes upon him, but he stared down at his hands, suddenly finding them to be quite interesting.

"I'm sorry," he said with a low sigh. "I shouldn't have said that your Quidditch trials weren't important, and I know that I shouldn't have left in the middle of them Harry." He shook his head. "I don't have any excuses, it's just that- when I saw you and Ginny, it made me think about Lavender, and, well- " He shrugged again, now looking as if he were at a loss for what to say. He bowed his head lower. "I think she only liked me for my skills in Quidditch," he mumbled, appearing shame-faced. "If it wasn't for you pretending to put that _Felix Felices _in my drink, she probably never would have gone out with me." He felt Harry's hand slide onto his shoulder and rest there. Finally he chanced a glance into his face. Harry's eyes were free of everything and it was as though all that had happened between them over the last few hours, had been magically vanished. The only thing he could detect in his friend's face was a light trace of sympathy.

"It's alright, Ron." He smiled slowly, shrugging. "Just forget it." Ron grinned at him. And, further down the table, Luna was pointing up at the ceiling, blabbering on about something indecipherable. Harry bent down into his ear and whispered,

"Anyway, maybe Lavender wasn't such a loss." He stared at him shocked, at a total loss for words. Nearly simultaneously, Luna sent Rona a look filled with dreaminess, although he wasn't sure whether or not it was intentional. Beside him Harry gave a low chuckle- he swallowed convulsively.

Two hours later he found himself affixed to the step of the Great Hall's entrance, looking wistfully at the snowy ground, rattling to himself on some inane topic or other that Professor Slughorn had assigned to him, and Harry's stolen potions book- well technically he did not really steal it, but it irked him that he had attained his hand me down version rather than getting the normal version with all of the usual spells- so he might as well have stolen it.

"Hello, Ron," said a bright voice in his left ear, and he practically moaned aloud when he saw Luna Lovegood standing next to him.

"Why aren't you at Hogsmeade with the others?" she asked him curiously. Ron looked away from her and mumbled something incoherent.

"What was that? I didn't catch it," she said with her abounding cheerful air.

"I said I didn't have anyone to go with," he stated, a bit more loudly. Harry and Hermione both had dates for the Valentine's Day outing.

"Oh," she paused. He thought he knew where this was going.

"Me neither," she added. "Hey. Perhaps we could go together. Well, just as friends I imagine, since I don't really think that you meant to kiss me earlier." He turned around finally now and looked at her with surprise, and, admittedly, relief.

"You don't?" She shrugged. Her misty eyes roved towards the Hogwarts windows.

"No. I think that it was a sporadic moment, obviously. You were happy that you'd just made up with Harry, and, well . . . I obviously just happened to be in the way." She shrugged again. Ron couldn't help but to notice how large her blue eyes were.

"You know . . . " she said thoughtfully, "I don't think that people ever really fall in love save for during sporadic times such as those. It seems as if it we're all part of a great cataclysmic particle that floats about in outer space- we end up together after an explosion, like a particle." Ron blinked. He realized that Luna had drawn closer to him, although he couldn't depict how that had happened had happened.

"You know . . . your hair looks like a burning bush of fire," she added in the same tone. They were staring-

At that precise moment, a clump of snow fell against the door's window. Luna smiled so widely that it nearly reached her cheekbones. Ron leaned in to kiss her. Then he spotted something in her hair that he hadn't before seen. He pointed to it.

"What is that?" He reached out and touched it.

"It is a nargle," she whispered.

They kissed . . .

Later on, he woke up in bed wondering-

Had it all been just a dream?

He could ask Luna.

She'd likely respond that it was all in the eye of the observer however. All in the eye of the observer- panting as his heart raced, Ron tried to go back to sleep, but, he couldn't. There was a nargle hanging over his bedsheets, and it was upside down, staring directly at him.

Nargles . . .

One couldn't depict them, couldn't understand them. He shook his head sadly- it was definitely a dream, wasn't it?

Sadly, no one ever really knows, do they?

Wrackspurts and nargle venom . . .

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_**Please review if you have a moment. I always love to hear from you. Happy Wrackspurts and nargles my loves! Oh and bye the way- if anyone is intensely interesting in Luna Lovegood and simply can't bear to spend a day without seeing her, in some fashion, lol- please check out my new blog. It's called 'Luna Days.' Just me being silly, really . . . Web address: Thanks everyone =)**_


	2. Sweetly Serene Complications

_**A/N: Thank you to hazeldragon, Ice Moon 14, and TroyWeb for their reviews on the last chapter. This is a bit experimental, but I am extending this story into a longer pirece. Let me know what yout hink!**_

_**Sweetly Serene Complications ~**_

_**(Prologue, Part 2)**_

_**{Disclaimer: The original belongs to JRK, as always}**_

Ron had a really strong temptation to pull those interesting cherries of chocolate inundated candy delicacies intermixed with a touch of banana into his mouth. Of course, it would probably not do him that much good if he were to plop them into his mouth and savor them for several hours, without fear of them melting, if Ron was, in fact, late for his detention with Argus Filch, who enjoyed the art of handing out punishments much more than he would enjoy that lovely chocolate- he felt his mouth water, and he immediately left his place in the enormous, plush red chair that was aligned with the others in a row before the table at the front of the Great Hall. Here he had been lunching his friends, and to his slight annoyance, everyone had now returned from their Christmas break.

Ron had a really strange urge that he didn't completely understand at the moment, to devour one of those fainting fancies that were laid out in front of him at the table, but how could he possibly pick up that twisted up wad when no one else was around? What if the thin paper piece of cardboard was flung into the distance by the magical spell, and it hit Professor Snape's forehead? . . . Ron really needed to put a halt to these strange imaginings. Someone or something must have placed a charm over him when he was asleep, and now there was no possible way that he would ever awake- not as long as this, was in his head. Ron swallowed over an enormous hunk of rock that had somehow lodged itself into his throat, threatening to choke him-

"Hello Ron," said a cheerful, almost cuttingly painful, bright- voice. "That's an interesting sweet that you're holding." Luna bent down to peer at it more carefully. "Although it's not really a sweet is it? It looks more like a humdedicken." This time, he really did almost choke over a few drops of saliva.

"A what?" he spluttered.

"Oh, you know," she said utterly serenely, placing her face almost directly up against, the little wad of innocent seeming paper-

"They resemble bats." She waved one of her arms in a fashionable-seeming, bat-mimic, "but they are really small cardboard creations charmed to look a bit like them after they've exploded." Ron stayed quiet. "They're really interesting, however . . . " She straightened herself. "Although," she continued in a voice that dripped with such a hushed seriousness, that Ron thought that someone must have died,

"I wouldn't open it here, as they can be rather unrestrained. One might catch, for instance, on Professor Dumbledore's hat." He simply gaped at her. She smiled at him now rather widely.

"Well," she said cheerfully, "I'll see you later I suppose . . . " Ron struggled to regain his abilities.

"Yeah, yeah, right . . . " he nodded his head vigorously. She flashed him another smile, and then left him, standing there with the most bizarre grin that anyone had probably ever seen him wear-

"Ron," someone said sharply. He gave himself a rough jerk. Then he smiled.

"Hello, Harry." His friend gave him a slight frown. He smoothed his hair over unconsciously. "Is there anything wrong?"

"No. Of course there isn't," he said quickly, his voice sounding strangely clogged. Harry chuckled lightly. "You zoned out for a minute." You must have visited another planet- was that Luna that I just saw?" Ron blinked. The almost ethereal-looking entity that was floating upon air all of the time sporting a flock of blond sporadically falling waves gracing over her shoulders was already at the Ravenclaw table. She sat down with her compatriots, starting to talk animatedly with a small, mousy boy with a pale, sharp nose- he could only imagine the topic of their conversation.

"Yeah, it was." He looked back at his friend and saw that he was now grinning.

"Why are you smiling, Harry?" His red-head now went up in a rather uncharacteristic gesture, and his freckly-face turned a bit red as he straightened his body. Hermione joined them at that moment.

"Hi- what are you doing?" she asked them, sounding a bit breathless. Harry shrugged.

"Nothing."

"Oh." Sparing the two of them just another, cursory glance, she pulled one of the chairs out and sat down at their house table, beginning to fill her plate with eggs and bacon.

"Hey. Did you see the new equations that Professor Sinistra gave everyone in Arithmancy?" a tall, burly boy in his fifth year asked Hermione.

"No, I didn't. I haven't been to that class yet," she said worriedly, biting her lower lip. Ron grumbled to himself underneath his breath about the unethical numbers of people in the Great Hall that seemed to be bent upon causing him grief today, as though he actually had done anything to merit this, and promptly sat down beside Hermione- he soon became extremely involved with the various gold and silver flasks that held various types of elf-made juices and lovely, backed breads whose smell teased them all furiously- he reached toward the enormous loaf that was the closest to him, not really knowing how he could sneak the entire thing onto his mouth without anyone noticing, when someone touched his shoulder lightly, and he started, knocking over a hard, heavy object with his elbow. He had no inkling as to what it was, until a warm, sticky wet liquid crept across the tablecloth and seeped around his skin, just as Hermione cried out, and straightened his blunder quickly. Ron blushed to the very tips of his ears.

"Look," he quickly said, feeling his throat now begin to dry, "I don't really think I'm feeling all that well. I'll see you both in the Common Room." Both of his friends were completely silent. He removed himself from their presence with as much dignity as he could muster, and left the Great Hall, without another glance at a single person.

Hermione's cat had somehow entered into the boy's dormitories, although how this could have occurred he really could not at this point, fathom. The enormous, ugly orange feline had sprawled its long gangly legs across his bedspread, and as he walked in the animal turned its squashed face towards him, as if it sought to challenge him for some, strange reason- Ron closed his eyes painfully.

"What are you doing, Crookshanks?" he muttered to it. The feline's large slitted golden windows gleamed at him in an eerie manner, but he could not digest all of the possibilities that this might involve. He gave a slight cough.

"Totally fine with me. Yeah, of course . . . " It wasn't as though he could bemoan its presence. After all, the animal had its own mind, and Ron knew that it would not leave, anyway . . . "blasted cat." There was nothing else for it. He would share his space. He walked over to the sunny window whose shades rippled in a fierce red flag of dire circumstances- they must have been heralding Ron's current life. He turned away. Something was nagging his brain gently. He knew that it was of course, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. There was some homework that he had not yet completed for poor Professor Sprout and he didn't want to keep his Herbology teacher waiting. Perhaps he would do that- the assignment was fairly simple, and it would keep his mind off of keep his mind off of other extenuating circumstances which might- plague him . . . Ron swallowed. He really needed to start his work.

After a couple of course the door opened to reveal a familiar red t-shirt, followed by Harry's entire frame. He took one glance at his friend's bed and flashed him a wry grin.

"Hermione's cat finally took a liking to you, eh?"

"Course not," Ron grumbled, his head bowed in a tightly strained arc over his paperwork. He had decided that it would benefit him more to work on the floor beside his nightstand, since, for some reason that he couldn't for the life of himself understand, the comfortable chairs and seating arrangements downstairs were not at this point, terribly appealing. Harry plopped down beside him, tossing his book-bag between them. He took out his own homework, and proceeded to scribble out the beginning of his Transfiguration essay. They poured over their own respective, messily strewn pages for several minutes in silence. As Ron lifted his quill in consternation however, at a particular point during this sporadic session, he accidentally caught Harry's bright, cat's-like green eyes.

"What is it, Harry?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit snappish. He shrugged nonchalantly at him. "I have nothing to say at all."

"Oh, yes, you do," Ron (snarked) back at him, "now what is it?"

"Well . . . I was just wondering whether or not you had decided to make the potion that Professor Snape has required for the class yet?" Ron's mind drew a blank. "Potions?" he asked, slowly. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Erm . . . no."

"Well, that's good," he said, promptly, "because I need some help with mine, and I was wondering whether you'd like to partner up with me."

"Oh, well, sure. Of course I will," he responded quickly, giving him now a small smile. His mind was growing a little clearer.

"Good," said Harry.

"It's no problem," he said. He was still feeling oddly disoriented. He figured that a breath of fresh air might be in order for him now- he had really been inside too long. That was his trouble. He lifted himself up. "Listen, Harry. I'll see you a bit later, okay? I'm going to take a walk."

"Sure, mate. Do you want me to come with you?" The corners of his mouth were bent in somewhat of a downward fashion, as though he were almost suspicious of something. Ron waved him off.

"No. That's alright. I just need a few minutes."

"Okay, then." Harry bent back over his schoolwork.

Ron found himself trekking over the grasses of Hogwarts sooner than he had hoped, in a highly familiar setting for some reason. He soon found out that it was due to the vast number of memories that the owned, which were connected to the normal days, when Harry and Hermione were with him. He was enormously disoriented, as he walked, and soon, everything started to come into the light- the sunlight streamed lovingly over the grounds at that moment, and he soon became enamored with a curtain of gold hair that was sailing blissfully over the lawn in front of the castle. He stumbled over a tree branch. The mass of blond hair streamed in another direction, away from his field of vision, as the girl turned around.

"Ron," Luna said in a serene, surprised tone. "What are you doing? Don't you have potions this hour?" she asked, her voice sounding as if coming from a place very far away. In reality obviously, she was only a few steps away from him-

"No," he said abruptly, "no, I don't." Luna blinked.

"Well, there's no need to get nasty with me about it." He sighed. Then he sat underneath a towering oak. He scratched the back of his neck, prevaricating.

"Look," he said at last, "I don't really understand what's been going on, but something- something's not quite right here," he choked out unaware of the fact that he now resembled a fish that had a long body, walloping around on land-

"This- just doesn't make any sense." Luna walked seemingly effortlessly to him and sat down upon the ground with him. It was a peaceful sunny day, because for the first time in months, the snow was beginning to melt, however, she quickly waved her wand in a wildly Luna-fitting fashion, since Ron seemed oblivious to the patch of freezing snow that was still steeped into a point next to him. Her eyes were wide and blue and sympathetic. A very large, fat-appearing bird flew over them. Luna opened her mouth to comment upon it, but, whether or not she actually said anything, he did not comprehend, for, at that exact second, a few weary travelers in the form of students charming their leather book-bags into the air lazily, that were bedecked with Slytherin House colors as they went towards the pitch- stopped short at the sight of them. Their gait became obviously lazier. A large, heavy-jawed boy with black hair threw his book-bag, which he had charmed to fly rather than carry, upon the ground. He sniggered.

"It's a Gryffindor, and a loony Ravenclaw."

"Well of course it is," Luna answered him in a stout, and strong voice. "I don't know who you are," she said, rather pointedly. Her jaw had seemed to float- a bit- higher into the air, for some reason, at the appearance of these insidious pieces of filth. Ron felt his ire start to spike at the manner of these Slytherins, and he balled his hands into tight fists. But there did not seem to be any reason for this surge of pique. Professor McGonagall was now striding across the grounds behind them, her cloak pulled tightly around her thin frame. She herself wore a red scarf that was wrapped around her neck snugly. Ron noticed that her glasses were perched upon her nose rather precariously. She stopped, looking a bit peeved. She stared down her spectacles, and well-defined nose at the Slytherins.

"Aren't you all meant to be at the Quidditch Pitch?" When all four of the boys simply stared at her, she added impatiently,

"I assume that you are, since Professor Snape specifically requested that I oversee this training practice," she said in a clipped tone. The four of them looked at one another quietly, and then, with a certain amount of scarcely heard muttering at this admission, they headed out toward the pitch together. Ron struggled to smother a grin. Professor McGonagall looked at the two of them, and gave, what he considered to be an extremely thin-lipped, tight smile that made her seem as though her face had stretched into a white-mask of some kind, because the result was a creatively scary grimace. It nearly gave him the chills.

"You two better get yourselves inside. If I am not much mistaken, Mr. Weasely, your potions class with Professor Snape begins in ten minutes."

"Yes, Professor." He said, now scowling. Luna started humming a tune that sounded a bit like the Sorting Hat's theme song. He looked away from her, casually- whistling.

"Ron," Luna piped up suddenly, "do you know why Professor McGonagall is overseeing the pitch?" Her face at the moment was the picture of sweet serenity.

"No, I don't." Why was he even here with this blond-headed beau- . . . oh, no. He needed to leave, right at this very minute. Ever since the trip they took to Hogsmeade they had taken together, he hadn't felt right. Not that anything had of course happened, but . . .his ears started turning red, but he paid them no mind. He needed to leave. He had to get away. Hurriedly he shot up, and he looked down at Luna. She gazed back at him, with a mild surprise. His mouth felt very dry at this second- moment, second, what term should he use? What did it matter? He had to go, now . . . what was happening to him, Ronald Weasely? He threw his backpack over his shoulder, and fled towards the great double-doors that composed the front entrance to the castle.

"Ron, what are you- " It was Hermione. He nearly bowled over her in his desire to reach some Gryffindor safety, and soon, he was happily on his way to the tower, blissfully ignoring Hermione. Who he met right after he entered the his hands over his ears with utter rapidity. Then, without any hesitation, he grabbed his friend by the front of his shirt, and cried out, in a choked portrait hole, however, was- Harry.

"Hey mate, are you ready to- " Ron clamped voice,

"I think I like her, Harry. Looney, I mean Luna." Harry sighed, and smiled. He then gently tried to pry Ron off of his shirt.

"I don't know how long it's been going on," he said hoarsely. "I don't understand why it would be like this- what did I do?" he asked him in a cracked, parchment-paper styled voice. Harry grinned widely at him. Ron let go of him, and fell backward onto his heels, nearly falling behind into the mantle- luckily his friend caught him.

"What am I going to do?" he moaned. "All I can think about is Wrackspurts." He sounded as though he were completely terrified by this. Harry blinked. He didn't say anything at first- finally he just shrugged. "Research them, I suppose . . . " And then he left Ron Weasely staring into the fiery flames, that were, well without question almost as bright as his red hair-

a sweetly serene, depiction.


	3. Still Filled With Wrackspurts?

_**A/N: A special thank you to hazeldragon and oncecelestial being. I appreciate your lovely reviews. **_

_**Just as an aside, guys, if you're going to review, no flames please. They will just be deleted. But, of course, I don't have to tell you that.**_

_**Okay, test trial is over . . . **_

**{Disclaimer: The originals are not mine}**

* * *

**Chapter 1-**

_**Still Filled With . . . Wrackspurts?**_

Luna found herself to be most aggrieved by the vast number of Baubertub pus rolls that it was necessary for her to unroll in order to smooth them out and give them a good shake, which never ceased to result in tens of millions of the tiny pods rolling around beneath her feet miraculously, as though she'd specifically charmed the inexplicable little bits of plant to partake in a funny dance around her. It was a beautiful tandem of little pods, really, although that phrase must have been- well, simply a part of her imagination. Nevertheless, however, each time she peeled the leaf roll apart with her fingers, the pods would always work within the same confines of their own unique desire to place her in trouble, and Professor Sprout would come running up to her so that he could take away a few more points from Ravenclaw, and Luna hardly ever lost points. She was terribly saddened by not executing the correct spell though, because she did so much enjoy charming the pods to their full maturity, and then back once again to what they had previously been in their immature, baby state of pink sweetness . . . just like babies! Nevertheless, there was no better reason for which to pull the little rolls apart then to watch them scatter . . .

"Ms. Lovegood!" Feet flew beneath the dirt-spotted robes of the Herbology Professor, who whizzed from her place at the Slytherin side of the classroom towards Luna, her small silvery slippers shining through the greenhouse sunlight that cloaked her- "Whatever are you doing? Go on. Move back, back!" she cried to her. Luna blinked, stepping aside so that Professor Sprout could wave her wand in an extremely complicated fashion, before spinning twice in order so that the unique spell's completion would result in the ordered serenity once more, of the tiny pods. She whirled around on her.

"How many times must I tell you to stop daydreaming, girl?" she harped in a fashion that seemed much like a bird- "Twenty points from Ravenclaw, and don't allow me to catch you every doing anything so foolish anymore. A waste." She clucked her tongue sympathetically towards the now carefully self-rolling display of Baubertub leaves. "A total waste, to be sure. Now off with you." She waved a hand to the jeering of several of those nasty Slytherins that were hooting towards her from the other side of the classroom, and also in tandem with many odiferous-smelling Ravenclaws close by her, giving her evil stares. Luna turned her nose up at them slightly, and managed to pull her robes about her in a dignified, concise fashion, before she exited the greenhouse without so much as a backwards glance at any of them. After all, they were just House Points, and it was not as though it were a question of who was truly affected by the loss of those points, but the manner in which they were taken- Luna though Professor Sprout to be undeniably unfair in this instance.

She moved languidly across the sunny grounds, tucking her flyaway strands of blond hair behind her pink-charmed radish earrings that were serving as lucky blockades, so far, against any meandering Wrackspurts or twisting about, narrowly escaped nargle venom residue that had narrowly escaped the purple-coated vampires that were keeping the venom for medicinal purposes, even though the cave in which they practiced was one of the best kept secrets in the wizarding world- Luna was proud to be one of the few witches who was privileged enough to understand the subtleties and the arts of such practices- if it weren't for her father's Quibbler she-

"Luna, hey!" At first sight of who was striding across the castle grounds toward her, she beamed brightly.

"Hi Harry," she said. "It's so nice to see you. Especially underneath the present circumstances," she added in a lowered undertone.

"What do you mean?" he asked, hitching his backpack up over his shoulder a few minuscule notches- Luna had the distinct impression that he was a tad bit nervous, although he was usually exceptionally good, in her opinion, at the art of subtlety, because he did not normally let it show-

"Oh well," she shrugged. "It's just that I did so much want to bid someone a pleasant day who was actually cheerful," she said in a gravely serious tone of voice, "and you and your friends must be the perfect, um- type, for a happy conversation, unlike some others that I know," she said, glancing briefly over her shoulder. Harry was lost on a couple of different points, however, so he asked Luna for clarification, hoping that she wouldn't grace him with an answer in what he considered to be 'Luna terms.'

"You mean you want to talk to someone without arguing," he guessed carefully. "Who had some type of strife, with you? Was it Professor Sprout?" he asked, looking back at the lone, outdoor Herbology house set aside for primarily interesting stores of plants.

"Yes, that is what I meant Harry," she answered in a singsong tone, now looking decidedly cheerful. He raised a delicate eyebrow at her, but knew better than to question her description of what had taken place with a further attempt at attaining details . . . which may have plunged him into undeniable, straight confusion come to think of it.

"Is there anything confusing you Harry?" she asked in a syrupy, yet strangely conscientious tone. He wondered vaguely how sharp she really was. There was something brilliant yet completely incomprehensible about this Ravenclaw- it was such an odd notion that that was most likely apart of her brilliancy. Now he was utterly confused himself.

"Harry," she piped suddenly pulling him away from all of these animated thoughts that she was evoking. "Is there something that you can do to gain Ron's attention for me?" Harry nearly choked at this strange admission. He gathered himself in the nick of time, and raised his eyebrows at her delicately.

"Why exactly would I want to do that?" She turned her large, mistily protuberant eyes upon him, a slight trace of surprise glistening beneath the lids of them. "Well I have had the most unique feeling of late. It seems that Ron has been attempting to garner a portion of my attention recently, you see." Harry's brows furrowed, cutting a path of pure bewilderment across his forehead.

"Why would he do that?" Belatedly, he realized how that must have sounded, and he quickly amended, "There doesn't seem to be any reason for him to. And, if he has- why haven't you made contact with him directly?" As they trekked across the sunny grounds, she stopped at the sight of a wildly growing patch of Tiger Lilies that were uncommonly pretty and eye-catching to her, situated in a less traveled around behind the greenhouse along the castle's edge.

"I think that we are beneath Professor McGonagall's window," she iterated vaguely to him. He allowed his eyes to rove up in that direction briefly.

"Luna . . . if you are trying to make contact with Ron, he's usually not that hard to find," Harry said honestly. He couldn't understand for the life of him what would prompt her to communicate with his ginger-haired friend, or, more precisely, what would be considered as an obstacle in that instance, for after all, he was quite certain that Ron had made some indication of some hidden emotion over the past week or so, that he was just perceptive enough to catch, lucky for him . . . a faint buzzing sound graced his ear on the left, before he realized that Luna was in the midst of a most fervent hum, that she seemed to be enjoying entirely too much. The sunlight crowning her distinctly pale hair hugged her so closely that it seemed to be a part of her, and, for a moment, he could understand his friend's attraction . . . quickly he shook his head.

"They are so lovely," she said breathlessly.

"What are?"

"These Tiger Lilies."

"Oh." Harry shifted a little in order to better see the Lilies. "I didn't know that they grew anything here," he remarked.

"Oh they don't usually. These were a special project I believe. Professor Flitwick mentioned something about it last week."

"Oh." They were both silent for a moment.

"Harry?" she asked suddenly. The girl was uniquely sporadic, but Harry found that the sensation she gave was not entirely unwelcome. He frowned to himself.

"Luna, why were you walking away from the greenhouse? Did- " he paused, realizing that he had not given a vast amount of thought to the question that was now threatening to be pulled from his lips quite severely. She turned those knowing, almost, he thought, omniscient eyes upon him once again. "No. I wasn't being taunted, if that's what you mean," she said in a matter of fact tone.

"No, that's not exactly- "

"It's alright, Harry," she said serenely, "you don't need to hide your thoughts from me." She shrugged, rather noncommittally. "It isn't as though, after all, I am unaware of what many people here think of me. But then, they are not exactly privileged enough to know what I know, no, are they?" she said in a suggestive, secretive tone of voice.

"Er- aren't they?" he asked her uncertainly. She smoothed her hair away from her face with one fell swoop of her two hands.

"Of course they aren't," she said briskly. "They don't read Daddy's Quibbler magazine." And with that, she turned on her ripe looking, cherry covered heel and made towards what he presumed to be the entrance of the castle from this viewpoint, though he could not be completely certain. She turned back toward him once, and lifted her hand in some type of a goodbye gesture, her radish earrings swaying in a dangerously familiar manner. Harry shook his head to himself, and just about then, took note of how long he had been out there. He should have joined Ron and Hermione half an hour ago. He had only been a few minutes late when he had walked out onto the grounds, and noted that this would have resulted in a two minute walk to clear his head of all his potions studies, had he not met Luna. He really needed to keep a stronger hold on his scheduling from now on . . .

Luna observed the happenings that scurried to and fro in front of her. One boy, with a particularly large nose and black hair that reminded her vaguely of the Potions Master, dropped several pieces of crumpled parchment on the ground, and she blinked as they piled themselves at her feat in a disorganized fashion. If she hadn't known better though, she would have thought this to be a deliberate movement . . . she gave a tinny of a laugh to herself. A bespectacled boy on her other side looked at her curiously, but she shrugged him off. _Soon, soon_, she thought- she would need to find him. Ron Weasely could not avoid her forever, and besides this act of avoidance he was pining after, she knew that he could not really pull those that type of measure, for it would not align itself with the natural course of things . . . the boy on her left pushed his glasses further up his nose and she shrugged nonchalantly at him, upon seeing the glint in his eyes that doubtlessly left some censorship in his orbs, directed at her. Strange orbs . . . they were such an interesting brown- nearly golden. As she continued to stare at him, he harrumphed at her and walked away . . . well, that was interesting . . .

"Luna." At the sound of the exclusively familiar voice she turned, never mistaking him for an instant.

"Why, Ron," she said without hesitation, "what a lovely surprise." He scratched the back of his head as he slowly approached. It was five minutes past lunchtime in the Great Hall and everyone in their vicinity was in the midst of some sort of act of leaving process. "How interesting," she observed vaguely.

"Er- what is?" She flashed her misty bright blue eyes back towards him.

"People watching," she said candidly, "don't you enjoy it?" He self-consciously was smoothing out a rumpled section of his jeans. His head was bowed-

"No," he said bluntly. She turned away from him again, as though for that mere admission alone he was not worth her concern.

"Luna, I- I thought that we might be able to study together- er- this afternoon?"

"Really?" Well this was a most fascinating development, but then, it was not as though she had not expected it. "What makes you say that?"

"I- what?" She waved a hand his way.

"Never mind, Ron. When would you like to go with me?" His coloring was a bit off, more of a puce now than his natural pale donned with interesting freckles.

"Well, um- " he stopped in order to gulp fervently. "I suppose we could go now," he said in a small voice. Something in the distance shattered that she took to be one of Hogwart's spoons- how interesting. There was a minute pause-

"Well certainly we can!" she brightly exclaimed, and then she made towards the library without so much as a background glance in his direction, and Ron had to hurry after her. Shoe pattering across the floor marked a wide berth between their treks as they traveled there. When they gained the entrance, he heard, from across the corridor, her greeting.

"Hello Madam Pince!" she called out gaily. Much to her chagrin, Madam Pince did not say anything in return. Well, that was a bit rude . . .

He was steadily catching up to her, although he prayed and he desperately hoped that no one was in the line of view to watch him crazily chase Luna Lovegood down the hall. He really did not think that such a category would suit his- well, his reputation. And then there she was . . . beaming brightly at him. He could not help but to swallow, hard. It was not supposed to be like this. What in the name of Merlin had happened to him? He couldn't understand this strange dynamic . . . honestly, truly, it was not as though Lu- Looney, Luna, whatever her name was, had asked his express appreciation of her? Appreciation? He didn't- he _couldn't _appreciate her, could he? Yet, she still stood slowly rolling her wand about in the air, gathering into her arms 'a few books which she had been wanting to read for ages.'

"Even more than Daddy's Quibbler magazine," she told him, with every ounce of serious-filled words. All that he could do was stand there and nod. He glanced around nervously. Thankfully there was not a soul in the library right now. She sat down on one of the chairs nearest her and placed her armful of books on the table. They had snuck themselves into a corner that was far enough removed from Madam Pince's desk so as not to be heard.

"So," she said simply, "I believe that you have been attempting to make contact with me this week Ron. There was no reason for secrecy, honestly- I am not altogether certain as to the reasons behind your message to Hermione, or the Wrackspurt-filled love potion that you gave me- "

"Wh-what!" he spluttered furiously. "I would have never given you a love potion!" She held up a hand to stop him.

"You needed only to ask Professor Snape how to make it properly. Otherwise it would not have been filled with Wrackspurts. Anyway, I assume that this was not why you wanted to speak with me?" Her eyebrows were raised, as though she expected him to speak first. He had nothing to tell her though. He had not given her any such a potion. He merely continued to stare at her, this odd yellow-haired girl that was now humming very softly to herself over a large black-bound tomb that she no doubt thought was most fascinating, at a complete loss, not wanting to give himself away, and yet desperately wanting to do something totally bizarre. He could not-

"Luna?" he croaked, his moth feeling as though it had been heated by a Luna-made feather that was lightly brushing back and forth, tickling his tonsils with a scalding but yet- a very pleasant heat. His face was now burning.

"Yes?" she asked, rather sweetly for her it seemed. _No_, his brain was telling him. Fireworks were spurting in all various and sundry directions. _No, no, no- you can't do it. No . . ._ He could hear Malfoy and Snape in his mind, see the moment when the entire school would know what he had done. And yet, his heart was thudding, and he was helpless to stop it- he leaned in for a kiss. He was kissing Looney Lovegood- _no, his brain told him, her name is Luna. Yes, Luna . . ._ why was he kissing her though? Why, why, why? He was falling into a blackened pit, and yet all he could think about were Wrackspurts and nargle venom. Was it possible that things would never again be the same? If only he could stop the flow of insanity? If only he could stop the flow of all of the ridiculous notions flooding his brain. And in the distance, Malfoy was singing,

"Weazleby and Lovegood. Who knew that he could? Who knew that the poor, icky little Weazel pet had a girlfriend and she was a loon? What strange taste you have." And yet, for the moment at least, it was not imminent gloom, but pretty sunshine. Was that really Malfoy in the distance.

Butterflies jumped around in his stomach. He wouldn't know . . .

* * *

Is it a dream?

Would he ever awake?

Just a dream about nargles . . .

It couldn't be real!

_It is _his head argued.

_No, it isn't._

_ Yes it is . . . _

Wrackspurts and yellow hair, so persistent . . .

All of them were swarming around in his head, and he had yet to find an answer to his question.

Perhaps because he didn't really want to.


	4. An Uncontrollably Painful Urge To Itch

_**A/N: A special thank you to TroyWeb and hazeldragon.**_

**Please note that feedback is always welcome ~**

**{Disclaimer: None of the original characters belong to me}**

**Chapter 2-**

_**An Uncontrollably Painful Urge to Itch ~**_

* * *

Ron and Luna would not be the most interesting couple on the planet, it would seem, if it were not for the earrings that she always wore, which people always found to be particularly fascinating, even if her strange penchants did not make any sense. In fact, it seemed rather bizarre that the primary reason for which Ron and Luna were taunted was because of the fact that no one really thought that Ronald Weasely would be attracted to such a style, but indeed he was. It was also nearly impossible to believe that their fascinations for the nature of these two caused them to taunt them, but, Luna did not seem to be terribly bothered; in fact, she was much gayer these days than she had ever been. It was rather late in the year at this point anyway, although exactly what this had to do with anything Luna was not entirely sure.

"Ron, you certainly are quiet today, aren't you?" Ron however, refused to answer, so bent was he upon staring dreamily out of the window. Well, perhaps everything seemed dreamy where Luna was concerned, but then, well, everything was merely a deck of cards that anyone could pick from, so she should indefinitely do as she pleased. As she leaned closer to him, she found herself crouched down upon her knees slightly, and noticed that her jeans were displaying a slight spot of mud to her.

"Interesting," she said, for some reason sounding amused. "I don't know how I got that spot on my jeans dirty. I haven't played Quidditch or been outside." Ron could not quite understand why it behooved Luna to tell him this now- when he would much rather slip into the most undignified manner that would be possible, and- no, he couldn't allow himself to think in this way. No, no-

"Ron, what are you thinking about?" she asked him, in a vague, faraway tone that he really couldn't make sense out of. Her radish earrings kept glistening towards him in the most tantalizing way, bobbing up and down rather frivolously, as though they had a mind of their own, thrusting into his vision with a shining-

Oh, well.

Ron cleared his throat.

"Luna, I um- I was wondering if you actually needed assistance when you called me into the library, or, well, Harry said you did, so . . . yeah," he said lamely. She blinked a couple of times with an odd, protuberant surprise.

"You mean to say that you were not wise to what I asked you to come here for?" Ron could do nothing more than swallow a few convulsive times like a fish that had landed upon the shoreline.

"Well, er- no," he said, a tad hesitantly. "I mean, no- no," he said, trying to enforce the point, although to whom, well, no one could tell. She tapped her finger along the side of her cheek, musing over this strange iteration. Madam Pince walked across their section with a quivering scowl dripping from her face that made the two of them move back into their distinct corner. The books behind their backs looming up behind them were encased with shadows and a semblance of red bindings shone bleakly through the strange gloom, to scowl down at them- odd that everything was a scowl.

"Ron, you don't mean to say that you don't feel anything other than well, shall we say mere fondness for me?" She asked him abruptly, her face slightly pink, an abundant flock of wavy, dirty blond tendrils waving about that voluptuous, full, and expressive face- he nervously gulped. "There is nothing that _interests_ you?" In a flash as yet unprecedented in the species that we call man, a variety of different shades of red colored Ron's face, one dipping out, and then another dipping in, until the redness crept in a vivid fashion over every feature that he sported, so that he looked very similar to a sort of reindeer that muggles only would most likely recognize by name.

He felt himself at a complete loss for words, and this unbearable fallacy made him duck his head in shame, but, fortunately, he was at that moment rescued by someone to whom he would be eternally grateful.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed, almost immediately waving his hands in a wide arc over his head.

"Hello, Ron. Oh, hi, erm . . . Luna," she said with a gentle air, slightly hesitantly. She was carrying an armful of books, and, though she had made a beeline towards Ron as soon as she saw him, was now looking as though she might, in fact, find another direction more interesting. But as he was pleading to her with his eyes, desperately hoping that she wouldn't leave, she seemed to think better of this possibility, and followed her first direction, straight to the shelf of books behind them-

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting," she stated in a subdued tone of voice. "I didn't realize that you two were in the middle of something." Ron made an attempt to surreptitiously move his chair around in a jerky sort of weird curve, so that he was almost facing her, but his stance was still centered exactly between the two of them.

"No," he said, trying not to sound too strangled. "You weren't interrupting anything, was she?" Luna's head was bent over her the book that had been resting before her before Ron had joined her earlier.

"Not at all," she said in a faint voice, but her eyebrows were concentrated towards each other now, reaching into the center above her eyes . . .

"Excellent," said Ron softly.

"Well," Hermione responded to them both brightly, "I did have a bit of reading to do, regardless, so, if you two wouldn't mind . . . " she trailed off, now focused upon one of the glossy covers of one of the largest tombs that Ron could ever truly imagine, in speaking merely of proportion.

"We would love for you to join us," he said, blithely. Luna shot him a cursory glance, which he ignored.

"Harry is off with Ginny somewhere, and the Tower is rather quiet," Hermione said vaguely. "It doesn't seem as though anyone is studying for their exams, either, which I think is absolutely atrocious, don't you? After all, our end of the year exams are only a month away . . . " she trailed off, her head dipping almost ominously back down over her book, as though to give everyone fair warning. Ron watched this, swallowed, and looked away from her quickly. He did not want to be made aware of her scheduling plans for them once again, as he and Harry had already listened to her attempts to create a foolproof, staunch, and basically time-consuming plan dozens of times, as she checked, and checked, and re-checked with them constantly to make sure that it would fit into their daily routine with the essential beauty of absolute precision. Luna was now buried in her book once more. Ron could not help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

Hermione glanced between the two of them fleetingly, a trace of befuddlement crossing her features for but a moment before it passed quickly away, and she placed her face down upon the page again with the most astonishing reflexes that he had ever seen.

"Those are nice earrings Luna," she said kindly, sounding offhand. "Wherever did you get them?" At the mention of the ever outstanding earrings that traded attraction for their dazzling sight wherever they flounced, Luna was immediately soothed in whatever category required the balm- Ron refused to acknowledge the possibilities that were there- and began an animated, profuse chatter on the topic of her father's _Quibbler_ magazine, which of course was offering a free pair of radishes in order to calm the effects of some malady that neither of them were presently familiar with for some reason.

"Oh," said Hermione for lack of anything better to say it seemed, when they got to that lulling point- "that's nice." There was a non sequitur hanging upon the air. Ron nibbled on his bottom lip for a moment.

"Have you started to study for the exams yet?" she asked her.

"Oh," said Luna, her serene tone in prominent contrast with Hermione's unfathomably, all of a sudden laced veiled tone drilled with a rushing adrenaline. "Yes, I started a few weeks ago. The problem at first though, was that I couldn't figure out what to study when, because I was always in a different frame of mind. So I finally figured out that I would simply choose the books that were nearest me, and study the subject that they were being used for. That seemed to work a little bit better than studying according to mood, although I still _am_ never entirely sure if I'm studying the right subject at the right time." Ron quickly threw his sleeve up to his mouth in order to muffle his threatening laughter. Hermione merely stared at Luna, for once at a total loss. This was calculated to elicit further humor from Ron. On the plus side though, it seemed like the perfect chance to make a tactful getaway to him.

"You know," he said, glancing towards the window on the far side of the library, as though he had just thought of something that was of extreme importance. "Speaking of studying, I just remembered that I haven't done any of my homework for Potions, and Snape is going to kill me if I get another incomplete, you know, so I better . . . " Luna's eyebrows skyrocketed into her head at this uncannily strong statement, since it was practically ripped from him in a manner that he himself issued through a gurgling that sprung from him in the way of a train's forceful whistle, with a problem in its machination. Hermione's face however, lit up with a rare beam of approval.

"Well," she said, sounding for some reason mollified, as if Ron's suddenly improved study habits were some sort of direct impression of herself. "I'm glad to see that you are becoming more conscientious about your study routine." Then she pulled a pile of highly extensive notes that she had crafted, all the while continuing to smile his way. Ron scratched the back of his head, his ears starting to heat.

"Yes," he cleared his throat. "Well." He shot a glance at Luna, prevaricating. Luna's eyebrows were still raised, giving her the unfortunate impression of looking similar to a gnome with several creases in its forehead- the notion in Ron's mind quickly vanished away though.

"As you wish," she stated rather coolly. Hermione looked up at them, her eyes roving from one to the other before she seemed to become a bit flustered, and hurriedly re-centered her energies onto her immeasurable assignment. Feeling somewhat miffed, although he did not know exactly what was propagating the feeling, he navigated through the center of the library towards the exit, paying a special care to the art of avoiding Madam Pince, which was not an altogether task of fundamental basics- especially since she seemed to have acquired of late, a most energetic desire to catch any culprit that touched the spine of one of her books incorrectly- someone, she continued to enumerate with a tone of silkiness that she must have borrowed he thought from Snape, was wearing out the inscribed words on them. Ron was nearly so careless that he came very close to running head on into Harry at the door, not even seeing it open.

"Whoa, watch where you're going there, mate," he said, holding a hand out in order to steady him, before he fell head-into-the-floor.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, brushing himself off slowly. Harry straightened his glasses.

"Where are you going? Weren't we going to sit down and have a study session? Hermione's been harping- "

"I know bloody well what she's been saying," he retorted, cutting in. The words died in Harry's mouth, and he closed it abruptly. They were both quiet for a minute.

"Well you don't have to be nasty about it," he said finally. Ron let out a low, fluttering sigh deep in his throat, and then, without waiting for any type of come-back to come to him, made to move past him. Harry just stood there with a somewhat quizzical-intermingled-with- annoyed expression as he left. Ron did not give him another thought however, as he continued to smell something around him which did not quite make full sense, and when he realized a moment later what it was, he could not rid himself of the idea of radishes, much to his extreme annoyance, even though, by rite of fate he imagined, he did not have long to wait for this thought to be eliminated by one that was more formidable, and more tangible as well, when the form of Severus Snape loomed into view, just into the distance.

He attempted to move further out of his pathway than would necessarily be considered by most to be what was required for a typical walk down the hallway, but alas, he could not seem to avoid what was inevitable. Since it was lunchtime, the vast majority of the students were in the Great Hall, and he was now alone in the foyer just outside of the Hall. Snape came to a stop as they drew across from each other.

"Weasely," he sneered. "What are you doing outside of the Great Hall during lunch?"Ron shuffled his left leg uneasily. A gaping hole in the area of the knee fluttered towards him, reminding him of a very familiar dash of dirt . . . he shook his head slightly. He then stared up at Snape defiantly.

"I was spending time in the library, Professor, catching up on my studies." Snape raised one of his long eyebrows, his black eyes narrowing dangerously, while simultaneously his arms went up, crossing over his chest in the most languidly absurd fashion imaginable, because Ron did not think that anyone that was quite so- well, like Snape- could be quite so graceful in every motion committed.

"Really?" he said softly, "Tut, tut- how quaint, and . . . commendable. Who would have thought that you were so quietly meticulous, Mr. Weasely? You certainly give the polar opposite expression during class." He lifted his prominent, glacier nose higher into the air, and with a sweep of his robes was swiveling upon his boots, and down the corridor which led into the dungeons. Ron watched him, an incomprehensible feeling of unease surging through his stomach. There was something that he couldn't quite define that was emitted through Snape's words, but then again, unless he was mistaken Snape was usually prone to double-meanings, wasn't he? Trying to block out the remnants of this stubborn, lingering idea, he continued on in his original direction of the Gryffindor Tower.

When he reached the spiraling staircase which led towards the now much coveted destination, he passed by the window overlooking the Hogwart's grounds, and he found himself lingering beside the sill traitorously, his thoughts tugging him in the exact opposite direction from that which he wanted to go in. He drummed his fingernails upon the glass unconsciously for several minutes, watching while a few stray students vaunted across the grounds, one of them loping about a large tree, so free that she didn't even seem to take a step. And yet, here he was, locked within this dark entrenchment of his own sodden heart- no, that really was not a perfect depiction of the truth, was it? He didn't feel that way about Luna, did he? He would not- he would not- it wouldn't be an excellent idea, at any rate, to think about it. Of that, he was sure that he could attest- yes, he could.

It was most likely that point in time in which he could do some of his Potions homework, wasn't it? Yes, that was a good notion. He really needed to concentrate upon his studies more, did he not? Ron's eyebrows drew themselves together as though a line was penciling them into a forward direction. He lifted a finger to his nose and scratched it, as though he were attempting to rub the freckles away, for they might indeed have come off if they were pasted there by some force of magic, but, of course, they weren't . . . he never really understood why people had so many nervous habits, as _he_ certainly didn't. When he itched, for instance, there was always a reason behind the movement, such as right now . . . until something behind him grabbed his attention, and Ron was forced to stop-

"Hey, Weasely!" He gave an inward groan. There was no possible way that Draco Malfoy could have seen him in the library, was there? After all, he had been meeting Luna by complete chance at various places in the Hogwarts castle for months, and he had been undetected in even the most frivolous circumstances, although he had to admit that, in some ways, everything about Luna Lovegood _was_ frivolous. And yet, for some reason, at Malfoy's appearance, he could not but help to notice, that his need to itch became greater . . . he didn't know why exactly, but when out of the corner of his eye he spotted Malfoy and his goons smirking at each other something in his chest thrummed up and down, which he forced away, looking, instead directly out of the window.

"Weasely, is there- something that you wish to ask us?" Draco Malfoy said with a voice that positively dripped with a honeying sweet sap that Ron himself thought very strange in association with this pale blond-looking . . . ferret. He turned around, a frown gracing his features. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"What exactly do you mean?" Malfoy took a step closer to him, waving to Crabbe and Goyle in order to indicate that they should not follow him. "I just thought that you might be feeling the effects of one of the special spells that I've refined, _just for your benefit_." His pale blond nose twitched, and interestingly enough it twitched upward as if, by some offbeat chance rebounding straight from fate, his nose was deigning towards an aristocratic desire itself. Ron wanted to laugh, but he refrained from so doing, most particularly since his heart was sinking in the aftermath of Malfoy's words dramatically. Almost as though in response to his feelings, the hair on the back of his neck started to twitch- itch, actually. Not even aware of the fact that he was doing it, Ron groaned allowed. Malfoy started to laugh heartily, while Crabbe and Goyle stood where they were stupidly staring, until he was forced to move back and give them both a sharp nudge in the ribs. Finally picking up on their aristocratic, self-ordained leader's hint, they started to laugh with him.

"Well, I'll see you around, Weazelbee." And with that he took the long route back in the direction from which they had come from, stepping none too gently over Ron's feet with his own as he left. Ron continued to look after the three of them, now feeling completely depressed and annoyed in a surpassing excess by this day. He quickly became distracted from his thoughts though, because not only his neck was now crawling, but his shoulders were showing signs of stealing some of his attention- disgusted with this rabbit hole situation, he thought that he would take a quick stroll over the grounds, and perhaps visit the lake for a few moments, hopefully without meeting up with that horrible bloody creature that was always in there, which had given Harry a frightening turn a couple of times.

As he was traipsing down the staircase, trying to ignore the scrambling of his own two arms that he couldn't control which were working their way traitorously towards one of his embarrassing parts, which he would not allow, for he was completely in control of this situation indeed, he moved in a ridiculous swaying tandem that caused one of the portraits to call out,

"Too bloody dirty you know, for Dumbledore's palace!"

"It's not a palace!" Ron spat out towards the old man, who promptly moved his star-spangled, gleaming hat down his eyes while harrumphing, which he took a savage pleasure in ignoring, utilizing more of his- what did they call those?- happy dendrites or whatnot, that the situation seemed to call for. Yet, a fat bloody lot he cared. So, as though in complete and utter disregards to that very notion, he fervently checked his surroundings to make sure that no one was watching him, and sprang towards the enormous entrance doors, so that he could scratch himself privately. Nothing was making sense to him at this moment, and his brain was quite foggy if he did say so. And here, coming directly towards Ronald Weasely, was something calculated to make his brain even fuzzier: a mass of wavy blond hair now coming closer and closer, mercilessly cascading around him. For a moment, he wanted to weep, he really and truly did. Instead he merely backed into the wall beside a silly and strange set of flowers, itching himself madly.

"Ron, don't step on those Tiger Lilies! They are hardly ever grown in this area of the grounds. Why, Professor Sprout just told me . . . Ron?" she questioned, peering at him more closely now. "Why are you scratching? I really think that you need to exercise a little more control," she said, blushing a little. "Because here comes Professor McGonagall," she added, "and I really don't think that you are being appropriate." Ron just sank to the ground, his eyes actually starting to water, although he didn't know exactly from what, and shrouded his red face behind his hands.

* * *

Surely he was amidst a dream,

One that was Luna enchanted,

And a voice whispering softly to him,

That he despised but loved . . .

Was it a dream?

Was this truth?

Ronald Weasely didn't know.

After all, he had never read the _Quibbler_, and, unlike Luna, he did not have all the answers . . .

Oh the pain, the poor, sodden, saturated pained heart that he owned,

It was never to be helped,

But forever a scythe,

That twisted about his real desires . . .

His enigmatic love.

Was it really love though?

Was it?

Nothing but love,

And more, it bored, and bored into his brain, thirsting for-

No, he would not think of it.

It was never to be . . .

Not Luna Lovegood, _please!_


	5. Quick Request for Suggestions

_**Author's Note ~**_

**Hello readers,**

**I was hoping to attain an opinion from those reading this piece, if you would be so kind. I am in the process of working on the next chapter, and have been contemplating a possible pairing between Harry and Hermione, as well as Ron and Luna. This may be a vague relationship, or one that takes place in a tangible, physical sense. If anyone happens to come across this, I would appreciate hearing your thoughts. This is after all, crafted in regards to you best interest =)**

**Thanks,**

_**SM ~**_


	6. Ron's Revelation

**A special thank you to **_**hazeldragon.**_

**A/N: If you read, fair lovers of words please take the time to review. It makes the creative muse stronger and fills my heart with songs of glad.**

**Would you take the time to hazard a guess at what Ron discovered I wonder?**

**Until next update!**

_**SM ~**_

_**-Additionally, please feel free to check out my other fanfics posted here and original works =) PM me for more information.**_

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**Chapter 5-**

_**Ron's Revelation . . .**_

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The manner in which he became involved with this small tryst was really not very elegant. Not very elegant? Well, that was cutting short the idea that he was a part of Luna Lovegood's life, and he would never want to cut that idea short, would he? Ron was certainly an elegant person, regardless. It didn't matter who he was dating. _No, no- he wasn't dating her,_ he thought. While turning the corner into the next hallway, his shoes suddenly grew a bit larger, and he found himself falling into the windowsill on his right side of the hall. Someone gave a loud harrumph.

"Watch we're you're going, Weazel." Ron might have known that the perfect moment would fall upon him, in which he would sporadically run into Draco Malfoy by tripping over his feet. Ron lowered his head slightly, and gave a gangly-throated, noncommittal response.

"What was that?" The pale-blonds' eyes narrowed as he drew himself up to his usual height, and glanced down his nose at him. Ron said nothing to him. He merely glared in the other direction, smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes, which he drew tightly around himself, trying to maintain some dignity. He could not help but to allow his eyes to wander over the Hogwarts grounds, and his gaze caught on some particularly beautiful birds sitting in a vine a bit further down the immediate wall- he realized vaguely that he had never seen them before . . .

"Do you require something, Malfoy?" he suddenly spat, feeling a surge of ire come upon him in that moment which he could not explain. Malfoy loomed closer to him, and, even though they were roughly the same height, Ron felt that he had become the object of a formidable malice. He subconsciously shrunk into the window, though nevertheless maintaining his rigid stance. Malfoy came almost squarely tip to tip with his nose, his white face flushed with a darker shade of puce, now. His eyes were narrowed to shards of gray ice.

"You are already treading thin grounds, Weazelby," he hissed, his voice low. "Why don't you do yourself a favor, and not make a bigger imbecile out of yourself than you already have." Ron merely glared at him, but, to his own disgust, could not think of a single response to this. "I- am not who you want to provoke, Malfoy," he said, in a jerky, clumping voice, averting his eyes to the side, feeling a tempestuous ire flare become slowly and dangerously stroked. He balled his hands into fists which were slightly trembling with the force of his rage. He felt as though the room was suffocating him, and suddenly he just wanted to sink into the floor and die.

"Oh, really?" Malfoy drew, if that was possible, even closer, to the point at which Ron could feel his breath upon his face. He leered widely at him. Then he took a step backward. His sickly smile formed into more of a smug, wide grin. Ron was panting harshly. He could not though, to his repulsion, think of a single thing to say. His mind now conjured a picture of the time when he had attempted to curse Malfoy during their second year, when he had a broken wand that had backfired on him, the result of which forced him to vomit slugs at Hagrid's hut for half an hour. He felt somewhat like that now. And, as Malfoy backed away from him, at last, he had one person on his mind- and . . . he could do nothing about the entire circumstance that would please him. Nothing to control it, nothing, nothing at all. His head dropped even lower, as he allowed his eyes to fall back over Hogwarts grounds once again.

On a beautiful sunny day that surpassed the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione were more than willing to keep easy company by the lake as was, typically their want during the late spring. The weather was unaccountably familiar to Harry, as he wedged himself more comfortably into the long grass that grew thickly, intertwined with rushes about their favorite large oak. He felt more pleasured by his surroundings than seemed probable, as he gazed up at the impossibly endless blue sky and reached a hand behind him to prop himself up, half lying, half-sitting. Hermione shifted slightly and turned to look at him.

"You seem relaxed," she commented. Harry's eyes narrowed over the vast, sparkling lake expanding in front of them. He couldn't put his finger on the notion, but something was perpetrating his current emotions, as though they stemmed from a deep well inside his memories, or, an endless supply of thoughts his mind held that had prompted him to a fervent enjoyment. It seemed uncanny. He rolled over, facing her.

"I don't know why, but, this seems so familiar to me . . . "

"Well, that may be because we sit here often during the springtime," Hermione said, as she stared at him, bemused. Harry frowned.

"Yes, but- it's not exactly that. There's something different about being here that makes it seem more . . . peaceful- relaxed," he sounded a bit lame to his ears. Then he shook his head, as though to dislodge a fly. "I don't know why I feel like this." He was embarrassing himself, and he abruptly shut his mouth. But, Hermione did not seem to think this sentiment odd. To the contrary actually, her face relaxed underneath the sunlight, as she turned it upward to allow the sun to gently grace her features. Her tongue darted out of her mouth briefly, as though she was unaware of the movement. Her features were bathed in a golden river that dappled in gentle, shadowy waves, making her look temporarily ethereal. She appeared deeply relaxed as well, and Harry could not help but to momentarily wonder if they had been struck by a spell unawares. Her hair hung in loose, wildly curling curlicues about her temples, and her face looked lax.

"Hey, Harry, Hermione." The shuffling of a few dry leaves in the distance caused Hermione to sit up rapidly and straighten stiffly, her face tightening into conscious awareness once again. She smiled immediately and slowly.

"Hi, Ron," she said, sounding quite happy. Harry turned to look behind him. Ron was trudging up the wide, rolling hills of grass toward them. Harry smiled at him as well.

"Hey, mate. We haven't seen you since last night." Harry paused delicately, attempting not to be overly obvious in his address. Ron said nothing to him in return. "You alright? You're looking a bit peekish," he added, peering at his friend more closely. Ron pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He glanced at Harry with some confusion, then, as though he were attempting to ward off a particularly annoying bird, or a wasp that had gotten into his brain. Harry stared at him with some consternation.

"I'm fine." He shrugged noncommittally as he made his way over to them. "Save for the fact that the whole bloody school seems to think that I'm going out with Loony Lovegood- I mean, um, Luna- erm . . . " He looked away from them, his face turning slightly red, and Harry looked at Hermione with raised eyebrows. She coughed into her arm, and smiled widely at the two of them. Harry was tempted to laugh, but he did not wish to discomfit Ron any further- who, for his part, merely glanced her way once, without paying her much mind, as she promptly went into a tangent on the topic of matters which she obviously deigned to be more important. Harry quickly struggled to remember everything he had learned upon the art of Occlumency, although his store of information, in light of last year, was admittedly, sad.

"Aren't you two listening to me? Snape set us _three feet_ work of homework, and neither of you have even started on the essay he gave." Harry glanced at her ruefully. The art of Occlumency, for all its merit, had never served him, he thought, feeling disheartened. Ron punched him in the arm lightly. Leaning over to him, he muttered,

"For everything that git ever did for any of us, all we gained from it is Hermione's unquenchable respect for him. Fancy that."

"Well, at least Snape gained a secret admirer from it," Harry whispered back to him. Ron chuckled.

"Yeah, he obviously doesn't deserve that much, but, now that I think on it, it's a good enough of a notion for laughs, isn't it?" Harry was no longer able to stifle his chuckling. Hermione looked over at them both disapprovingly. He winked at her, and surreptitiously nudged his forefinger behind Ron, towards his back. To his relief, Hermione seemed to get his message, and her words became less sharp now. To his satisfaction, she soon changed the subject.

They had an hour to spare before lunch in the Great Hall. When they stepped inside the great double doors, students were hurrying back and forth in a frenzy which pierced Harry's stomach with a very familiar pang. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring his surroundings.

"Harry?" Hermione asked him, almost tentatively. "Is there anything wrong?" He breathed a short, forlorn sigh and answered hastily, "No, of course not." She smiled- a small, wavering one that looked to him as though it were about to drip away from her face. He observed out of the corner of his eye the clenching and unclenching of her fist that was stationed to her side, as a straight as a rod. She swallowed, and then looked him straight in the face, the smile dissipated. He felt as though he was being x-rayed, a fact that made him a tiny bit uncomfortable. He shuffled back towards the wall, just a fraction.

"I know what you are feeling, Harry." His closed throat suddenly felt very tight. Ron, for some unfathomable reason, had begun to wander, meandering a bit to the side of them, as though he were scouting someone in the room out.

"No," he said in a low tone, "you don't." Her eyes were huge and brown in her small white face. "Yes, I do," she said quietly. "I'm your best friend, Harry. I know what you think when staring out at them, or at least, I think I do . . . " she trailed off, and bit her lip hesitantly. Harry closed his eyes again, allowing, for a small moment suspended in a timeless bauble, the memories she called forth to rush over him. They came barreling at a speed he couldn't stop, taking the vague shapes of people and figures and familiar faces . . . when he opened his eyes again, a minute later, they didn't seem that different to him. Even though many of the students scurrying past were unrecognizable, he still felt the same way about them. He felt as though he was leaving everything he loved, everything that ever mattered to him, behind- attending a place that was both foreign and also cold. The fact that the Dursleys were his relatives didn't matter to him one whit- they were still blank pieces of cold steel when it came down to it.

"Sorry," he muttered finally. "I know you're trying to help, Hermione, it's just that- "

"Har- " There was a pause. They both looked at each other. She placed a hand on his shoulder, gently.

"Ahem." They both spun around, Hermione allowing her hand fall to the side quickly, appearing slightly flushed all of the sudden.

"Where were you off to?" Harry asked Ron, who had reappeared in that instant beside him, his eyebrows raised. He felt a twinge of irritation that he couldn't rightly name.

"I was going to see- erm- " He waved his hands in the air frantically for a moment, as though he were some type of flailing branch caught in the air. Harry grinned. "Sorry? Didn't quite catch that." He thought he heard Hermione giggle. Ron hung his head.

"Nothing," he muttered. "It's just- no, nothing- you two, just, go on back to what you were doing. I'm going to the library . . . " Harry stared after him with his mouth hanging slightly open. Hermione had adorned a look of mollification. "Well," she said, to no one in particular as Ron walked away from them, "I'm glad to see him taking his studies seriously." Harry shook his head, grinning. For some reason . . . he allowed the thought to hang suspended in the air.

Ron walked beneath the archway with his book-bag hanging haphazardly across his left shoulder, not taking any heed of the fact that it was falling slowly but determinedly into the nook of his elbow. Although he couldn't put his finger on the exact reason, he felt compelled to hurry towards the rickety, careworn, heavily used small round table that struggled to uphold one or two books that sat beneath a corner window- he stopped, staring at the sheltered corner of the library where he usually sat. His mouth fell slightly ajar.

"Hi, Ron!" Luna looked up happily from her entombed madness with her books as she saw Ron come toward her, who now looked concerned. He rolled one of his shoulders in a negligent movement, as though he were unaware that he was doing it, making a half strangled noise in his throat. Her brows became quickly furrowed. "Are you alright?" she asked him. "You look a little bit down."

"Down?" He glanced around the small section surreptitiously, his eyes combing the bookshelves rapidly.

"Don't worry," said Luna, quite seriously. "We're alone. Baubotour Pus?"

"I- what?" He looked at her all of a sudden, the skin around his eyes stretching.

"Here," she said, reaching over him with something held in her hand. "Try some. Oh, it's not real Baubotour Pus," she added, as he ogled the small, dark, brown murky substance in the tube she was holding out, completely revolted. "Just a fake rendition," she said serenely. Again, she looked more serious than the matter would seem to merit. "It's made from the spine of _Ravenous Slug-Horned Perpetrators,_ but in reality it's quite thin- a bit mundane of a taste, really." Ron shut his mouth abruptly. He had absolutely no idea what to say, but he had a hunch that if he just kept quiet, Luna would eventually drop the matter. And, she did. Shrugging in the self-same nonchalant manner as him, she put the tubes back into her sack truly contentedly.

"Like I said, rather . . . mundane . . . it's good to see you about though, Ron. I had heard from two or three students that you weren't, ah- feeling quite right," she finished, looking to the left of him, to his surprise.

"What- that's- " he spluttered, just as he realized, in a heartbeat of an instant, that she was smiling. "That's utterly ridiculous . . . " he finished, looking as well, to the side, his voice falling flat. Her smile broke into a grin. "I'm glad to see that you are feeling better." She leaned towards him, conspiratorially. "But I do think that you'd better watch your step. I heard Draco Malfoy talking to a couple of his friends last week. He seems to be under the impression that you taking part in a romance that is rather serious. From what they said, they don't seem to approve of your choice in partners, either." Ron felt a flare inside him that he didn't even try to fight at her statement.

"Yeah? Well, it's not really any of his business who I decide to hang out with, or who I determine that I want to _snog,_ is it?" he snapped back, with more force than he'd intended. The memory of his _faux de pass_ with Malfoy earlier that morning still stung him painfully. "You can just tell him to keep his bloody needle-point thin nose well out of my business." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs over each other. Luna looked distinctly pleased at this statement.

"That's the spirit," she said, gaily. She leaned towards the window, her small, cherry puckered-out mouth curving into a slight 'o' that Ron found to be somewhat- interesting . . . her long lacy hair dangled before him, teasing his view . . . well, it was more of a dirty blond, actually, but it resembled lace to him. "I never saw those birds before . . . did you, Ron?" she asked him, turning in her chair to look back at him. He glanced quickly back down at his hands.

"Which birds?" he mumbled back to her.

"Those blue and white speckled ones. They are called Magical Entities, I believe . . . " she said dreamily. Ron's cheek felt hard. He ground his teeth together a bit harder.

"Luna- I, um- I think that you need- that is to say," he paused, and coughed into his arm.

"Tongue twisted, Ron?" she asked him serenely, smiling a slight, vaguely mischievous smile, her eyes darting in a bright, dazzling dance. He was now breathing rapidly. Briefly, he closed his eyes.

"I was wondering if you had any ideas about, well, you know, that thing that happened last week between Malfoy and I?" He sounded jerky and strangled. Luna was silent for a moment.

"Are you referring to the itching curse?" she asked him, finally. He nodded, wanting to bury his face into his hands, but just barely restraining from the movement. Luna thought about the matter, not saying a word to him in that three second pause, in which the redness started to recede from Ron's face.

"I think that you need to ask Professor Snape for a potion," she said, causing him to start.

"What?" He was taken off guard. She nodded, and he thought that he detected a trace of enthusiasm in the gesture. "He's quite good at brewing itch potions, you know. In fact, he's excellent in the art of healing, although he would probably never admit it to anyone directly." Ron did not know what to say to this. The thought sounded so strange coming from Luna, but then, he knew that much of what she did and said could not be defined as ordinary. He scratched the back of his neck uncertainly.

"Why would he make an itch potion for me? I mean, no offense, Luna, but it's Snape that we're talking about here, not Professor McGonagall's cat- "

"Professor McGonagall has a cat?" Luna asked interestedly, interrupting him. Ron paused, staring at her.

"That's not what I- " he floundered, waving his hands wildly- she beamed at him widely though, and cut him off quickly.

"You never told me that," she said, enthusiastically. "Really, Ron, I thought that you would have mentioned that you're head of house owned a pet cat. That is so interesting-"

"No, I- that's not what I meant!" he interrupted rapidly, starting to feel a bit peeved. "I didn't mean that she had a cat. I was just making an analogy between Snape and a pet. I just meant it was more likely that anyone- even a cat, for instance- would be willing to make a potion for me than our potions professor." He could not understand why he had said it at all, actually, and found himself bemused by his own sense of creativity.

"Oh, I don't think that's true," said Luna, quite seriously now, her eyes sharpening as though his poor attempt at originality held a special interest for her. "As I said, he's an excellent brewer of healing potions. He makes potions for the Hospital Wing frequently, you know." Ron's eyes narrowed. He found himself intrigued, despite himself.

"Really?" he questioned.

"Oh, yes," she answered him matter-of-factly. "Where else would the potions in the Hospital Wing be brewed but in the dungeons? Snape brews the majority of them." Ron did not really know what to say. It occurred to him just then that they hadn't actually solved his issue, but he no longer felt compelled to speak about the matter. There was a gnawing in the pit of his stomach which he was willing himself to ignore, but found that, to his distaste, it was eating away at his system, pushing him against his better judgment-

"I- I think that I need some space," he threw out hastily to the air, as he backed away from Luna, who was observing him with the most protuberant, misty icicle-looking eyes that he had ever seen. "I'm going to ask Snape about the problem," he added, for good measure, causing her to flash him a smile of understanding.

"Oh, of course, Ron! Let me know if you need any guidance. I know that Snape makes you nervous." He swallowed heavily. "I will." And then, he left her sitting there behind her pile of books, making an odd twist into the adjoining shelves, without actually touching them, before turning swiftly at a run, and fleeing the library. He raced out from beneath the stone archway and began quickly instituting some kind of a mental action course. He was filled with a deep, roaming shame that spread throughout him like a wildfire that couldn't be described. He lifted one of his hands unconsciously to scratch the nape of his neck, cocking his ears for any lingering sounds from the Great Hall, even though most of the students had, by this point, left for their afternoon classes. He needed to complete a few of his own assignments, and perhaps start on his essay before potions . . . the strange feeling in his stomach churned. And then, with a sudden jolt, a thought came to him . . .

Before he was completely aware of his action, he was moving down the hall in the opposite direction of the Gryffindor Tower, and in the route, rather, in which he had just told Luna that he would go. He walked so fast that he nearly stumbled over his own feet, but he continued determinedly down the corridor, observing the shadows race along the walls ahead of him and feeling as though he could match their pace. Soon the environment considerably darkened, although Ron was unaware of the change in the environment. The open doorways whizzed past him, one by one as he mentally counted the seconds in his brain. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the stolid, formidable closed doorway, staring at the blank expanse, feeling, for the moment, unexpectedly dumbfounded. But, almost against his will his hand moved, and he rapped twice upon the door, loudly. He prayed- he hoped that-

"Enter."

Without wasting another second, Ron raced into the dark, familiarly murky potions classroom, attempting to shut out the potions in the glimmering substances that were made partially from what appeared to be purple feet of rabbits. Snape's head was bent over what looked to be a horde of student papers, his quill dipping in and out of a small, somewhat daunting vial of black ink. Ron walked slowly to his desk, attempting to calm his racing heartbeat. He was already half beginning to regret his decision. After about a minute, Snape finally looked up. He raised a pencil thin eyebrow.

"Weasely." His lip curled into his trademark sneer. "To what do I owe this- most delightful pleasure?" He placed his hands on the desk in front of him and folded them, his sallow face lined with a heavy sarcasm that Ron struggled valiantly to ignore. He looked everywhere but at Snape as a gurgling sound threatened to escape him. Snape merely continued to observe him coldly, as though he were no more interesting to him than a rather annoying fly that he was dealing with on a bad day.

"I need- " Ron clamped his mouth abruptly shut, as the room started to heat up and spin dizzyingly in front of him. "I need you to tell me about certain kinds of love potions- sir," he added as an afterthought. As he looked back up, he thought that he caught a fleeting smirk lace Snape's thin face that was completely unmarked by pique, but he couldn't be sure. His voice was unfathomable when he answered him.

"Really? And to what purpose, I wonder, would you need to garner such information for? For . . . to assume that I would waste my time and energies gracing you with the knowledge that you would no doubt be able to attain so easily on your own, I gather that there is, a, ah- shall we say special premise that is prompting this request?" Ron opened his mouth and closed it. His face felt as though it were on fire. He shuffled his legs a bit and averted his gaze towards the floor. He mumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry?" Snape asked him, his voice laced with a foreign delicacy that suddenly made Ron look up. Horror crossed his features, and the wind was momentarily swept from his system. Snape's eyes were two pits of whirling black needle-points that were driving straight through his mind and soul.

"You know," he whispered, thunderstruck, feeling suddenly sick. His mind underwent a spasm of fireworks and various scenes. "You know who did it." An ironic grin spread slowly- with a painful, scorching demonic glow- over Snape's face. Ron's stomach clenched tightly.

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**A/N:_ Please review!_**


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